


Raising Christmas Dinner

by SarcasticSmiler



Series: Chicken AU [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, non-meat eaters proceed with caution, these birds are destined for the dinner plate, though I should probably mention that they do not die in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler/pseuds/SarcasticSmiler
Summary: Raising Christmas dinner isn't always an easy task.





	

_“Uncle Bilbo they’re on the washing line again!”_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bilbo let loose a long suffering sigh, his tea cup clinking on its saucer as he set it down harder than intended, “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

“Of course,” Dori said, taking a sip of his own tea as he watched the shorter man head out the backdoor, muttering angrily under his breath. Though he didn’t wait long before following, Bilbo’s threats intriguing him.

“So help me if you poo on my washing you’ll be in that freezer quicker than you can say ‘Christmas’!”

Dori watched from the backdoor, smile quirking his lips, as Bilbo, hands on hips, glared at the turkey sitting on the washing line, wings spread slightly as the line moved under its weight and the gentle breeze that was blowing against Bilbo’s white sheets.

“You are in _so_ much trouble, you’re banned from any treats for the rest of the day for this,” Bilbo scolded before letting out an almighty _shriek_ as a large, wet dollop of poo rolled and smeared over the practically dry, blindingly white sheet the turkey was perched over. The shriek was shrill enough to startle the poor bird on the line, causing the entire thing to swing like a rickety old rope bridge in an action film, before the turkey lost its grip and promptly fell to the floor.

Seeing the angry red tint creeping up Bilbo’s cheeks to the tips of his ears, Fíli and Kíli quickly shooed the misbehaving bird back over to its companions, where Ori was waiting with a handful of food to keep them occupied.

“Christmas can’t come soon enough,” Bilbo muttered angrily, yanking the soiled sheet from the line.

-x-

Bilbo had been elbows deep in warm, sudsy water, humming happily to himself when he heard a _thud_ above him.

“What on earth?” he mumbled, frowning slightly at the ceiling before his eyes widened in realisation when he heard footstep. “No, they wouldn’t.”

Quickly drying his hands, Bilbo scurried out the backdoor to look up at the flat roof over his kitchen.

Only to be greeted with the head of a turkey, large dark eyes looking at him curiously.

“You bloody sodding irritating bird!” Bilbo glared at the turkey, pointing a somewhat threatening finger at it. “ _Don’t_ move.”

The turkey merely _pipped_ at him, giving itself a shake before settling down on the edge of the roof. Bilbo glared at him a moment longer, then hurried back into the house.

“Thorin!” he called, stomping down the hallway in search of his husband, “ _Thorin_! That _bloody_ bird is on the _bloody_ roof!”

“Wha…?” Thorin snorted awake, glasses perched rather precariously on the tip of his nose, book long since fallen to the floor after he’d drifted to sleep in the armchair.

“There is a turkey on the roof,” Bilbo grit out slowly.

“Ok, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Thorin assured, heaving himself from the chair. The groan that accompanied the movement softened Bilbo’s face, a smile twitching at his lips. “Do I need the ladder?”

“Probably.”

Not ten minutes later and Thorin was stomping about on the kitchen roof, trying to catch the turkey that kept just out of his reach, displaying as he strutted about.

“Oi,” Bilbo huffed getting the bird’s attention, head peaking over the side to look down at him. “Now _is not_ the time to be showing off.”

The turkey merely cocked his head at Bilbo, but the slight delay was enough for Thorin to grab him and pass him down to Bilbo’s waiting arms.

“You’re a troublemaker,” he scolded, shifting the turkey about in his arms so he was secure and comfortable. “Don’t you _ever_ worry me like that again.”

“Can I come down now?” Thorin asked, looking oddly like the turkey as he peered over the edge of the roof at Bilbo.

“Of course,” Bilbo smiled, kissing Thorin on his bearded cheek when his feet finally touched ground again. “Thank you.”

-x-

The sun was shining and a gentle breeze carried the soft scent of blooming roses. Bilbo sighed in contentment, back resting against the trunk of the great oak tree in their garden, book sitting in his lap as he closed his eyes for a moment.

It was a quiet clinking that drew him from his light doze and he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the culprit.

Lobelia, one of his Bluebell girls, was pecking at the silver teaspoon resting on the saucer, while three of the turkeys made short work of his tea.

“You little magpie,” he chuckled, shooing Lobelia away while leaving the turkeys with his tea. It had probably gone cold anyway, he reasoned running his hand gently down the back of the fourth turkey, fast asleep beside him.

As much as they tested his patience, Bilbo knew he’d miss them when it was finally time for them to go.

A short sharp pain in his toe soon dragged his attention away from his swiftly growing turkeys to the haughty looking hen by his feet.

“Do that again, Lobelia, and there’ll be no cake for you later,” he threatened, even as Lobelia proceeded to ignore him as she plopped down next to Bella and Donna and began to preen.

“Terrors, the lot of you,” Bilbo accused, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading at the antics of his feathered companions even if he wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on true events. Turkeys are absolute pains in the backside sometimes, but they are lovely too.


End file.
